


elements that bond but don’t mix

by Gracerevealed



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ficlet Collection, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Sam Wilson-centric, Some Stories Will Have More Than One Chapter, TFATWS - Freeform, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV) Trailers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29405856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracerevealed/pseuds/Gracerevealed
Summary: Chapter 1 - ‘Sam and Bucky are undercover.’Chapter 2 - Sam invites Bucky to the cookout. Hijinks ensue.More scenarios for these two crazy kids to be added. Let me know what you want to read!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> March is almost upon us. Are we ready for TFATWS? 
> 
> Unbeta’d.

There’s this  _ thing _ between them.

It’s not necessarily a ‘like’ thing, and arguably, not even a lust thing, but it simmers quietly - a nosy, noiseless constant - running lukewarm to hot (depending), right beneath the surface, during all of Sam’s and Bucky’s interactions.

Like now.

They’re in some swingers bar in bumfuck nowhere USA, music blasting obnoxiously loud around them, on an assignment. It’s their first time going undercover (which sucks... undercover ops _always_ suck), but their mission is fairly straightforward, and that means they can be in and out and debriefing back at HQ in no time (which is great). Because Sam doesn’t quite know what to do with the six foot tall super soldier who insists on pushing himself distractingly into Sam’s space; whose flesh and metal (gloved) hands are gripping the edge of the bar he’s currently leaning against, and whose arms have rendered him effectively locked in.

Sam’s affected by the proximity, sure, but he’s also focused on their target; a medium build Caucasian male who flits in and out of his line of sight as he moves purposefully from one of the night clubs’ private rooms to another. But it isn’t just the mark Sam’s aware of. He’s also cognizant of the fact that their opportunities to work undercover will soon be all but dead once he becomes more visible as the new Captain America and Bucky as the Winter Soldier. As it is they’re taking a chance (social media and the internet in general being what it is today). But this op is low effort and low risk. Or at least that’s how it’d appeared when they’d mapped out their assignment earlier at Carter’s briefing. So it has to go right.

Barnes steps forward then, the line of his body pressed flush against Sam’s front, and Sam tilts his head down and to the side, so that their mouths don’t quite touch when Barnes says in a whispered shout, “am I boring you doll face?” The other man’s breath is warm and pleasant smelling against his skin, and Sam laughs softly in response, gently elbowing his new partner an inch or two back so that he doesn’t completely lose sight of their suspect.

“Weren’t you ever taught not to shit where you eat Barnes,” he asks good-naturedly, and leans his head back so he can take a sip of the cocktail he’d been nursing between loose fingers for the last hour. Sam glances meaningfully at Bucky, gives him a mischievous wink, then turns his attention back to their target as he takes another sip.

Sam can feel Barnes’ eyes lingering on him, but doesn’t dare reciprocate the look. It’s neither the time or place to delve further into whatever the fuck this  _ thing _ is that they’ve got buzzing between them.

A few weighted moments pass before their suspect resurfaces again and whispers something to a big burly brown faced man, whose hands look like they’re the size of Sam’s face. He mentally notes the interaction and is about to speak, when Bucky plucks the drink Sam’s still holding right out of his hand, and wraps his lips around the straw he’s already been drinking from.

The other man swallows then narrows his eyes, his mouth twisting ever so slightly into a look that would be neutral on anyone else, but is damn near a grimace on Bucky’s normally inexpressive face.  


“What the hell does this century have against good Vodka,” Barnes asks in his typical flat tone, reaching over Sam to place the drink on the counter behind his back, and out of reach.

Sam tuts and raises an eyebrow, unconsciously swiping his hand down the other man’s side and squeezing his waist briefly as a silent request for Barnes to shift some of his weight away from where it’s pressed against him. And it’s only after he’s done it that Sam questions his action, mentally frowning at the unspoken (and overly familiar) communication that just occurred between him and his partner.

“You know....” Sam turns his body slightly, lashes sweeping against his cheek as he looks at the discarded cup of alcohol through his peripheral vision (face scrunched in mock disgust). “Just because we missed out on the brunt of the COVID pandemic during the blip, doesn’t mean drinking off of other people’s stuff is still a thing anyone does in the civilized world.”

Barnes smirks and runs a hand through his hair, leaning back on his heels, giving Sam his requested space. Enough so that neither one feels the air of their measured breathing against each other’s necks anymore.

Barnes continues to sweep his hair from his face, a casual gesture that would appear unrehearsed to anyone watching, but Sam notices the surreptitious surveillance the other man does of the room. Bucky’s sight and hearing are both enhanced, so it doesn’t seem to take any obvious effort for the super soldier to take quick inventory of their surroundings.

“Anything,” Sam asks, doing his own scan of the crowd in front of him as unobtrusively as he can.

“There’s a boy,” Bucky says after a long pause, leaning into Sam again. “Definitely underage and definitely in over his head by the sounds of it.” Sam has known Barnes for well over four years now (seven if he counted the blip), and been his partner for a little under three months, but he still sometimes marveled when he witnessed firsthand the other soldier’s superhuman senses and abilities.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam notices a scrawny looking kid being rushed into one of the private rooms in the back, and briefly clenches his teeth when he takes in the teens tear streaked face.

“I got him,” Sam says with an undercut of anger, silently willing himself to calm the fuck down as his pulse speeds up. Never mind the kid bears a strong resemblance to pre-serum 1940’s Steve. Or at least the bony, breakable looking version of Steve Rogers Sam had seen in a lone black and white picture Fury had recovered of the former Captain before he’d had his life blown apart by war.

“What’s wrong,” Barnes asks in that restrained tone of his as he places a steadying hand on Sam’s hip. Sam rolls his eyes and purses his lips, momentarily irritatedby the question. Damn Barnes and damn his super hearing, super soldier bullshit. To the other man’s sensitive ears, it probably sounds like Sam’s heart is galloping hard and loud out of his chest. But can he help it if visual stimuli causes his adrenaline and cortisol levels to wil’ out, or that he’d briefly wanted to strangle their child abusing perp with his bare hands? Is it unreasonable to want to keep a minor lapse in impulse control to himself?

His annoyance is fleeting though. Sam knows there’s no malice in Bucky’s words and knows there’s no reason to keep secrets when every mission performance (and hence their lives), depends on them completely trusting each other.

“The kid looks like Steve,” he says in a whisper shout, rhythmically swaying his body a bit so anyone who might be watching them would think he’s vibing to the song that the DJs currently playing. “Skinny Steve,” Sam clarifies as he finds himself drumming his fingers to the lyrics against the edge of the bar.  _ Huh, _ he wonders absently.  _Lady Gaga’s still churning out hits_?

Sam feels the quick squeeze to his side and allows the action to pull him back into the moment and ground him. He silently shakes away the Steve and Gaga lapse, and takes a deep breath while carefully plotting their escape routes in the event that any of their worst case scenarios play out. There’s a low hum of mechanical gears turning, the only outward sign that Barnes might’ve been in any way effected by Sam’s words, and then he feels a soft press of Bucky’s mouth against his cheek. Too light and too quick to be considered a kiss, but warm and steadying nonetheless. Sam briefly pauses in his role of being Captain America to stare Barnes directly in the eyes. The corner of Sam’s mouth lifts in tandem with the lifting of his eyebrow as he looks at Bucky questioningly.

Barnes responds with a dangerous smirk and a weak shrug, then quietly says, with grey blue eyes as hard as flint, “Let’s go get these child trafficking bastards.”


	2. The One With The Cookout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky’s invited to the cookout. Hijinks ensue.
> 
> Written in response to @stansamwilson’s tumblr headcannon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta’d and written quickly. Mistakes are my own.
> 
> *Bucky still has long hair.

Bucky sat back, his metal arm glinting onyx black against the sun as he draped it comfortably across the empty seat next to his. 

There were maybe ten adults and three kids who’d shown up for the barbecue so far, but the sounds of activity and happy unselfconscious screams made the numbers seem bigger - the space smaller. In a good way though, he thought.

Bucky felt more relaxed here than he could remember being in years; maybe not since the quiet days he’d spent in Wakanda, when T’challa was still alive and a baby goat who’d been rejected by her mom, had adopted him when he’d needed her companionship the most. But even then, as fond as those memories were, peace had only ever been a tenuous thing at best. He had still been a wanted man, and Sam and Steve had still been exiled from the States. 

Steve was gone now and Sam - Bucky glanced at the man talking animatedly to his sister and her husband while holding a beer in one hand and a bitten off hot dog in the other. Sam had become an important part of the contentment and peace he felt right now.

Bucky caught movement from the corner of his eyes just before his entire left side was jostled by the impact of Arya, Sam’s niece, jumping into the unoccupied chair next to his and latching on to his exposed metal arm.

Former assassin or not, it was impossible to check his emotions in time to suppress the surprised look that he knew was currently plastered on his face. Sam, always in tune with whatever shenanigans Bucky was up to, be it on or the field or off, came jogging over, already reaching out to remove the precocious seven year old who was still hanging onto his arm.

“Arya,” Sam started, hotdog eaten and free hand extended out in a grabbing motion. “What did grandma just tell you about jumping on people?” Bucky had had enough time to recover at this point, and was now trying hard to wear one of his less threatening faces as Arya peaked at him cautiously from underneath her curly array of bangs.

“It’s the hand right,” he asked, maintaining the same tone he’d use while speaking to an adult. Arya held her head up in response and tilted it, staring at Bucky intently. Questioningly.

“You wanted to know what it felt like right?”

Arya glanced at her uncle and then back at Bucky, chin tilted down slightly as if she was afraid she’d get in trouble, before nodding.

“Yea,” Bucky agreed, and flexed his arm slightly so that the black metal rippled into a skin tone that matched the rest of his body. Arya squealed delightedly then, forgetting her momentary shyness to prod and poke her small fingers against the surface of his camouflaged arm.

She giggled and met Bucky’s eyes, face full of mischief.

“Can I pinch you?” The words had barely left her mouth before Sam replied with a stern ‘no Arya.’ 

Bucky’s keen ears heard Sarah say exasperatedly in the background, “didn’t I tell that girl to stay out of grown folks business?”, followed by a loud tutting noise to emphasize her point.

The one time assassin was just startled to realize that an interaction that might’ve resulted in him having a complete meltdown and maybe injuring the people around him pre-blip, was comfortable and even welcomed now, a year after he’d gotten settled into this new life. Dr. Mamvare was right, he decided. As they’d worked together to gradually deprogram all of Hydra’s trigger words, the Wakandan doctor had told him that even though trauma never truly left, time usually afforded people healing and the skills to properly manage their pain.

Bucky looked at Sam, silently answering the unspoken question the other man had asked:  _ was this okay _ ?

“Pinching my arm won’t feel like pinching anyone else’s arm,” he warned softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.  _Yes, this was okay_ ,  Bucky hoped they said.

“Wanna bet,” came Arya’s sing song challenge. He glanced at Sam again, who was shaking his head good naturedly and walking away from them to rejoin the rest of his family.

“Go for it kid,” Bucky said, a half smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

——————

Four hours and six more kids later and Bucky was definitely not smiling. In fact he’d adopted what he’d thought was his most intimidating Winter Soldier scowl yet. Bucky shook his arm hoping the four year old swinging from it would get the right idea, and let go; but when that didn’t work, he turned the frown of his scowl up a few more notches, almost certain that Arya’s brother Anthony would have the good sense to be scared off. But no. Nothing seemed to work with these guys. Bucky was sure if he took out one of his knives, instead of quivering with fear like any sane person should, the little buggers would just cheer in delight before scrambling back and continuing on with their peculiar obsession with his arm.

To say Bucky was displeased would be an understatement. 

And that was how Sam found him: face glowering, his hair pulled into two short pigtails with six kids running in circles around him, while Sam’s nephew screamed excitedly as he swung from Bucky’s outstretched and newly bedazzled vibranium arm.

Sam stared at Bucky for three interminable seconds, before throwing his head back and dissolving into a full bodied laugh.

“Is that - are you,” the other man could barely speak as he practically doubled over in amusement.

Bucky just rolled his eyes while he attempted to flip the hair that had fallen into his face without undoing Arya’s self-proclaimed masterpiece. “I’m glad you find this funny,” he said dryly.

Sam was wheezing with his hands on his knees at this point, but still mustered the strength to unsteadily walk the few steps needed to unlatch his nephew from Bucky’s arm. 

“Awww Uncle Sam,” the four year old complained, before turning into his uncle and wiggling down and out of his grip. Sam was still unable to speak, so he gestured towards Sarah, pushing his nephew gently in the direction he wanted him to go. The boy gave one last longing look at Bucky’s arm, before shooting them with a bright, gap toothed smile and skipping away from them towards his mother.

“They - oh _man_... ”  Sam trailed off breathlessly, then, “ _kids_ ,” he tried again, wiping tears from his face as he began to round his niece and small cousins up. “Kids come on.” Sam’s voice was firmer now if still wobbly from barely repressed laughter. “Time for you guys to get inside.” He reached for Arya, eyes still partially wet from his amusement. “Your mom’s leaving,” he said, giving her a soft tap on her butt for emphasis. All six started in the direction of the house, but Arya paused after a few steps - like she’d suddenly remembered something - before running back past Sam to give Bucky’s leg a hug. 

“I hope you come back soon,” she said, and before Bucky even had a chance to respond, she was off and running in the direction of the door her mother, brother and cousins had used to head back inside.

He knew his face was flushed, cheeks and ears pink at the tips, but even still, Bucky felt strangely grounded.  _ God it was wild, but he was honest to shit happy _ . If only his family and Stevie could see him now. Bucky swallowed, his eyes stinging as he forced himself to focus on the present. 

They were the only two people left in the backyard now, and Sam had taken the opportunity to slink into Bucky’s space and wrap an arm around him. 

“Never knew you were good with kids Barnes,” Sam said with a soft smile, eyes glinting umber brown in the moonlight. Bucky swallowed any lingering emotion and scoffed, pretending to be offended while curling his bedazzled arm around the other man’s waist so he could pull him in closer.

“Something about that kinda thing turn you on,” he asked, pitching his voice in a way he knew drove Sam wild, and nuzzling his face against the side of the other’s cooler neck. 

Sam smelled like a mixture of expensive cologne and hours standing in the sun, and Bucky couldn’t help kissing and then gently biting at the skin his mouth was firmly pressed against. Even though it was still warm outside, he felt Sam shiver in response, and Bucky grabbed a handful of the other man’s ass so he could press the lower half of their bodies together.

“Uhuhhh.” Sam’s groan was mixed with a light laugh, as he pulled back and away ever so slightly. “Don’t be startin’ nothing you can’t finish.”

“I’ll finish it alright,” Bucky murmured, pulling back as well so that he could press a soft kiss against the other man’s mouth. “Just you wait’n see.” And the words were all Brooklyn accent then, lilting o’s and cutoff t’s, before he licked into Sam’s mouth - gently biting and nipping on his way in.

Not that he had much to go on, but Bucky still had enough awareness to figure that things were getting maybe a little steamier than a family cookout would normally allow, right before a high pitched voice rang out and yelled, “mommy I can’t get ‘em. Uncle Sam and Bucky are k-i-s-s-i-n-g.” There was a series of loud giggles, then the storm door slammed shut, abruptly smothering the small yet joyful sound. 

Sam slowly pulled away from Bucky, lips wet and kiss swollen, while smiling conspiratorially at him.

_God he looked gorgeous_.

Bucky rolled his eyes, and - unable to fight his amusement - forced himself to release a drawn out, put upon sigh.

“Should’ve known a kid named Arya would be trouble.”

Sam gave him a light peck before threading their fingers together into a warm (tight) grip.

“I blame my sister,” Sam said as he led them towards the back door. “The only thing she watched while Arya was in the womb was Game of Thrones.”

Bucky followed, squeezing the hand of the man he loved in silent answer, his heart unusually full and somewhat (mostly), healed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually wrote itself, so I had no control over where it took me. Sry if it didn’t quite stay true to your headcannon @stansamwilson. 
> 
> ‘Code-switching’ is a thing I do unconsciously, so I figured Sam would do it too. 
> 
> Because things like this actually matter to me, the doctors full name from Wakanda that Bucky mentioned, is Mkhimbar Mamvare (all credit to the Wakanda name generator).
> 
> I have a snippet of a guardian Angel AU longish fic that I’d like to test out here before writing anything more for it. Let me know if that’s something you might be interested in reading next.
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated and help with motivation.

**Author's Note:**

> This will be an ongoing ficlet collection. I have ideas of my own, but would love to hear what you guys want to read as well.
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated 💜


End file.
